Limited emotional vocabulary
by Mistressdickens
Summary: A small drabble inspired by the recent season 6 trailer. It involves a forehead kiss. You've been warned,


**A/N: Ok, so Jim Carter said at the Edinburgh expo thing that Carson (and others of that time) would have had a limited emotional vocabulary, and that got me thinking, and THEN we got the trailer, with its looks of love and forehead kisses, and …. Well ….. this just became rooted in my brain. Enjoy.**

If Mr Carson were ever to be asked, he would say he was a Butler first and a man second. That his own personal feelings needed to be subsumed in deference to his duty to the family he served. Even during his brief liaison with Alice he had never managed to give voice to the emotions that stirred within him and kept him awake at night. Perhaps that was why she had turned to Grigg. He had never thought about it until now. Now he found himself in a similar situation of loving a woman and not being able to vocalise it.

Not that he could compare Alice to Elise. He knew the former didn't hold a candle to the woman who had stood by him so steadfastly for the last two decades.

He just didn't have the words to express his thoughts and feelings. His emotional vocabulary was limited. It always had been and he didn't think he would ever have it in him to become a poet or describe himself in anything but the plainest language. There was never any need. He was a butler first, man second.

He had a keener sense of emotion when it came to the feelings of others. He knew precisely the tumult raging inside Lady Mary, and had wisely told her to open her heart. If he had been slightly less of a butler and more of a man, he might have proved a source of wisdom for his footmen, but in the end they all turned to Mrs Hughes, who had retained her emotions even as she rose through the ranks. Mrs Hughes was a woman AND housekeeper together. It was one of the things he admired about her.

One of the things he loved.

And he did love her. He'd never said it. Even when he proposed he had found another way to indicate his feelings, not wanting to expose himself completely, in case of rejection. And it hadn't mattered – she had understood him; accepted him. She hadn't said the words either. Now he wondered, after speaking to Mrs Patmore, whether his reticence had rather more to do with her omission than at first he realised.

Mrs Patmore … she had cornered him that afternoon and after a guessing game which had been infuriating for both of them, had evolved into his confession of bemusement at why Mrs Hughes had been upset enough to confide in the cook. 'She knows how I feel after all.'

Mrs Patmore had sighed and made to leave, but turned at the door to deliver her parting shot. 'She may know, you two are masters of silent understanding after all, but you make a mistake if you think she doesn't need to hear the actual words, at least once. If you actually feel that strongly, that is.'

'I do, Mrs Patmore. I ….'

She had held up her hand to stem his words. 'I don't want to hear the rest of that sentence before Mrs Hughes. You should tell her. They're very simple, even for someone with your limited vocabulary.'

She'd left him to his thoughts. To think over the few months since the engagement and their gradual relearning of how to treat each other, now that they had opened their hearts. He had thought his inability to express himself inconsequential in light of how happy they were. It was up to him to put things right, although he hardly knew how.

He'd best go now, for she had known Mrs Patmore had taken it upon herself to set things straight. Every minute he lingered would probably be sowing seeds of doubt.

He went directly to her sitting room, knocked and entered without waiting for a response. She was sitting at her desk, but the chair faced the door. Her face was etched with worry and her eyes swam with tears.

As he entered and before he even had a chance to close the door fully, she was on her feet and moving towards him.

'I'm so sorry, so sorry!' The tears started to spill and he found himself momentarily panicked about how to stop her. The last time she had cried he had virtually told her to pull herself together. It pained him to know his reticence was the cause of her distress and he made to soothe her.

He caught hold of one hand, pulling her slightly towards him. 'Shhh, Elsie. I'm not angry, and it's I who should be sorry.'

These words seemed to shake her even more, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. A few tears chased those she had already shed as she whispered 'Why are you sorry?'

He took her other hand and tugged them gently, so that she faced him completely, waiting until she had composed herself enough to raise her eyes to his.

'I cannot heave my heart into my mouth, Elsie. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.'

His hands relinquished her and travelled up her arms, and then to her shoulders. With only the tiniest of hesitations he then placed them either side of her face, marvelling at how they seemed to cover her head entirely. Her personality was so large that he forgot at times how physically small she was.

'I do love you.', he said, looking into her eyes to ensure she grasped his full feelings. 'And I'm sorry I've not told you every change I had. I love you.'

She didn't say a word, just closed her eyes to savour his sentiments and to offer up a silent prayer of thanks. He marvelled at the way she fit in his hands and wondered why it had taken so long for him to say these tiny words which meant so much. He was drawn to her and desperately wished to have her closer.

He closed his eyes and drew her head towards him to press a heartfelt kiss on her forehead. He felt the tension leave her shoulders as he did so, and then the even better sensation of her arms winding about his waist. He heard the exhalation of her breath as she delighted in his closeness, and smiled again against her forehead.

Mr Carson might be a man of limited emotional vocabulary indeed, but he had just added three words to his repertoire.

 **A/N: So I know they are probably in his pantry for the forehead kiss, but you'll pardon the small liberty, I'm sure. My thanks to Shakespeare and Austen for the use of their words about the inability to talk about love! I'm sure Mr Carson would have read both King Lear and Emma. And he is prone to the odd quotation.**

 **What do you think? Reviews would be most welcome!**


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